


The Ranger and the Innkeeper

by Born2read



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, dnd, elf!Casey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Born2read/pseuds/Born2read
Summary: Based on the prompt: Derek is an innkeeper. Casey is his favorite snarky adventurer every time she swings through.
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 59
Kudos: 26
Collections: Look What Discord Made Me Do





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UntoldGalaxies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UntoldGalaxies/gifts).



The group is loud, nearly belligerent as they enter Derek’s business, The Crane Inn. It is always the same with these adventuring types. They swoop into a place of business, try to spend as little coin as possible, sometimes pickpocket the patrons, and then move on as if they didn’t just disrupt the lives of those around them.

Granted, not all these groups are completely terrible, and some are worse than others. Still, they all fall on the same scale of annoying—even those who come back regularly.

A ranger follows in behind the group. Unlike the rest of them, she isn’t loud and vying for attention. Instead, she seems amused by their antics, hanging on the edge of the group. They find a large table, snagging a chair from another table—a chair they’re unlikely to return to its spot, Derek notes.

The innkeeper stares at the elf as she stands, not bothering to take a seat. She taps her fingers as she waits for her group to decide what they want before heading his way. When she makes her way to the counter, Derek does his best to make himself look busy. It would be best if he wasn’t caught staring.

She has to clear her throat for his attention.

At the sound, he looks up, keeping his face carefully neutral. Bored, even. “So,” he says, “go ahead and tell me. What’s your sad story?”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

Gesturing toward her adventuring gear proudly on display, then at her compatriots, he raises his brows at her. “Yeah, people like you always have a sad story of how you decided to get into adventuring, and they always love to tell it.” He notes that there’s a twig stuck in her hair, finds it oddly endearing.

Her brows shoot up as well. “And you think it’s alright to just demand that story from a person you don’t even know? People like me.” She snorts, derision dripping from the sound. It gives him goosebumps for some reason. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Please.” Derek tries to match her level of contempt—and contempt is something he does very well—but it can’t quite equal it. Maybe because he realizes she might have a point. Still, he’s built the hill. He’s going to die on it. “I see your kind in here all the time.”

“You think that I’m just going to hand over my life story to some—” her eyes flick up and down, taking him in and making Derek feel exposed and seen; he doesn’t mind the displeasure written all over her face, finds her distaste for him appealing, “—forgettable barkeep? You think that because you stand there—not asking for my order, by the way, I have to wonder if that’s really any way to run a business—that I’ll decide to sit here and spill my painful life story to you? That I’ll open up to this stranger who felt _entitled_ to my business?” Her arms cross over her chest, eyes narrowing.

“Adventurers _do_ like to talk about themselves.”

“You give them the opportunity.” The corners of her lips quirk a little. He notes that her shoulders square, and she plants her feet even though this battle is entirely verbal. “In fact,” she leans in a little and lowers her voice; Derek can’t help but mimic the action, “I bet you _love_ to listen. You probably would love to be out in the world yourself, but something keeps you here, tied to this building, and this life that you desperately want to escape.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he straightens up, taking a step back. Somehow, that last lean aside, they’d moved really close together. He found himself simultaneously annoyed and grateful for the bar top that separated them.

But she’s not done ripping him to shreds. “The audacity,” she continues, “to think that I want to relive my most painful memories with an unsympathetic question _grunted at me_ like that. You’ve no right to me or my story. Honestly, mind your damn business.”

Thoroughly shamed and strangely aroused, Derek frowns. “You’re right; I shouldn’t pry. What can I get for you today?”

She presses her lips together before quickly rattling off her group’s order. When she’s back to collect the last of her order, she leans back over the counter to whisper, “For the record, I had a very whole and happy childhood. My parents are still alive and kind people, and I’ve no sad or tragic background. Adventurers _do_ love to talk about themselves, though, don’t they.” She smiles, winking before turning on her heels and flouncing back to her table, leaving Derek to stand there gaping like a fish.

She’d been pulling his leg the entire time.

That—that—brilliant fucking elf.

It doesn’t occur to him until their group has left that he could have at least countered with the fact that he’s more than a simple barkeep and owns the inn.

She doesn’t look at him as she leaves.

It’s unlikely that he’ll ever see her again, but Derek regrets that he didn’t get her name. In the weeks that pass, he spends more time thinking about her piercing blue eyes and unruly brown hair than not.

Quite honestly, it’s a relief when she does return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told myself that I wasn't going to start posting anything until it was finished, but I started working on this while I took a break from another chapter work, and I didn't want to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

When she does come in next, it's about three weeks after their first encounter. Derek recognizes the burly half-orc first—he barely fits through the door, needing to slide in sideways—recognizes the rest of the group as they tumble in after him. As much as he hates to admit it, Derek watches for  _ her _ .

It's only because he wants to tell her that this inn is his. It was built with his blood and sweat (and tears, but she doesn't really need to know that part).

And maybe because it's also because Derek wants her to snark at him again. He can't explain—doesn't really understand—the pleasure he got from the attitude she'd given him.

The door closes behind the group, and still, she's nowhere to be found. The sandy-haired halfling comes to the bar with the group's order this time. They exchange the usual pleasantries; he's friendly, and it's a nice enough exchange, but he still finds himself wishing it had been the elf talking to him.

"That's all then?" Derek confirms.

The halfling—a bard, if he has to hazard a guess—thinks for a moment and nods. "Yeah, think so."

He tries to stay casual, wiping down the counter. "I thought there were more of you the last time." Not that he's worried necessarily; Derek doesn't even know the ranger, doesn't have a reason to worry about someone he met once who did not seem like a fan of his. It's just that adventurers lead dangerous lives, and how can he put her in her place if she was killed fighting monsters or crawling through dungeons?

"Oh." The already friendly face of the halfling brightens. Derek has to wonder if he and the elf ever— "She's out taking care of the horses."

A wave of relief washes over Derek. "We have a stable boy for that."

A little sheepish, the other man shrugs. "Yes, well, he said something that she deemed wrong, and now she doesn't trust him with her babies. Casey likes things done a certain way."

_ Casey _ . Derek files that information away for later. "Based on my brief interaction with her the last time, that doesn't surprise me."

He snorts. "She'll want a minute to decide her order, so I guess there will be more when she comes in; I'm sure she'll be in shortly."

After that, he hands over the payment, and Derek gets to work on their order.

His eyes definitely don't stray to the door every few minutes, and Derek absolutely does not have the urge to go to the stables to ensure she's really there in one piece.

What seems like an eternity later, Casey breezes through the door of the inn. She's smiling as she picks straw out of her hair. Waving toward her party, she heads straight for the bar. As she nears, Derek can see a bruise fading on her cheek.

"I own this inn," Derek blurts when she's within hearing distance. "Built it myself."

Her steps falter for a second, brows shooting up. She waits until she's standing at the bar before shrugging one shoulder. "Okay?"

"The last time you were here, you accused me of being a forgettable barkeep. I'm not just a barkeep; the inn is mine."

Casey gives him a strange look, and it occurs to Derek that she may not have spent as much time thinking about their encounter the way he'd been.

"Did I?" A smile tugs at her lips.

Maybe he really is forgettable. That is a terrifying thought that he doesn't want to investigate further. He'd never had this problem before. Not to brag or anything, but Derek's never had trouble finding company in his bed. He's never had to pay for company like some people who pass through his inn—not that there's anything wrong with paying for sex, he's never needed to. The way Casey looks at him, however, makes him doubt these past experiences. He has the distinct feeling that if he invited her back to his room, she'd decline.

It wouldn't even be a polite 'No, thank you' he'd be left feeling nursing the open wound from her sharp words for years to come.

"Guess I was wrong on two counts, then," she continues.

The smile appears now, and Derek's heart picks up in speed. She's got the prettiest smile, but her words have a lot to do with it. She  _ remembers _ him. Of course, he isn't forgettable. He hadn't doubted that for a second.

One brow shoots up again, and the look of disappointment has him equal parts aroused and concerned. "Although, I see you haven't learned anything from our last encounter. We had a whole conversation about how you should probably start by taking your customer's order  _ before _ harassing them. Slow learner, are we?"

He blinks, feeling a flush creep up the back of his neck. "What can I get for you?"

Casey slides onto the stool, leaning on the counter. "Nope. You can't backpedal that quickly this time." She hums, glancing around. Her gaze is assessing, and though Derek has felt nothing but pride in his establishment, this moment has him worried about what her opinion of it is. "You really own the inn?"

Derek nods.

Leaning forward a little more, she smirks, and fuck if that isn't the single sexiest thing he's seen. It's practically a mirror of his own smirk, calling to a deeper part of him. For once, he isn't talking about his dick. Her tone is conspiratorial, "How long were you waiting to tell me? Looked like you couldn't hold it in much longer?"

"What happened to your face?" He asks instead.

The smirk grows into amusement as she sits back. "Fight with a kobold." Casey shrugs like it's no big deal that a fight with a monster led her to get hit in the face. "Hazards of the job."

"How  _ did _ you end up in the job, anyway?"

"Ah." Casey straightens up, and he feels a stab of disappointment at the distance as sharp as when she wields her words. Thankfully her tone now is softer, playful. "You haven't earned the right to that answer." A beat. "Yet."

The way she says it sounds like a promise, one that's filled with potential. Yet is suddenly Derek's new favorite word, and his heart skips at the addition. "Casey," he whines, dragging her name out, savoring the way it feels in his mouth.

It feels nice, watching the surprise flicker over her visage. "Seems you have me at a disadvantage?"

He knows what she wants, but if she can withhold information, so can he.

"You haven't earned my name," he counters. His heart is racing now. Derek waits the same amount of time she had before adding, "yet."

Casey bites back a smile, and it feels like a victory. "You assume that I care to find out."

It stings a little, but he doesn't buy it. "You can't stand not knowing," Derek guesses. Based on what the halfling told him and his few experiences with Casey, he has a feeling that she likes being in control of all situations. "Can't stand that I know your name, and you don't know mine."

"How'd you find it out?"

"The small one mentioned you were in the stables," Derek admits, inclining his head toward her friends.

She glances back at her party. When she turns around to face Derek, Casey's smile is fond. "Sam."

So busy is he wondering if the two have them are together that it takes Derek a second to realize that she's saying the halfling's name. "I guess." He shrugs. "He didn't say."

There's a pause as Casey studies him. She's smiling slyly, making him both nervous and wishing he could lean across the counter to kiss her, but that's how Truman lost both his business and one of his balls. Still, Derek can feel the upper hand slipping from his grasp. "You were asking about me," she sing-songs.

"No."

"Casey nods, her smile growing brighter. "You  _ were _ ."

"Were you going to order something because I have other things to take care of."

Glancing around at the tavern portion of the inn, Casey nods with a little snort. It's an unattractive sound, much like the horses he sometimes helps care for when they're begging for a treat, but he finds it absurdly cute. "Sure. I can see that you're very busy."

"I have other things to handle aside from the floor," Derek sniffs. "Owning a business keeps me very busy."

"Of course." She holds up her hands, sliding to her feet. "I'll take the beef stew and an ale, and I'll leave you to your busy business."

She pays him, collecting her drink and heading to the table with her friends to wait for her stew. She chats animatedly with her adventuring party, not sparing him another glance. Just in case, though, Derek disappears into the back to work on accounting. He's been putting it off long enough as it is.

When he emerges an hour or so later, Casey and her friends gather to head out the door. She catches his eye as she adjusts her leather armor, winking at him. "See you around, Derek," she calls before heading out the door.

He slumps onto the bar as the door swings shut behind them, cursing at the wood.


	3. Chapter 3

Four months pass before he sees Casey again. Derek had begun to resign himself to the fact that he would probably never see her again. It happened with adventuring groups; sometimes, they showed up regularly. Sometimes they stopped in once or twice, never to be seen again—it was a fact of life.

However, his resignation doesn't stop a little flicker of hope from igniting in his chest every time the door to the inn opens.

The flicker starts to die out, though, when she next strolls through the door, favoring her left leg. As soon as she steps through the threshold, Casey catches his eyes and waves. Despite his concern—no,  _ curiosity _ —the gesture makes him smile.

It literally  _ makes _ him smile. Derek tries to fight the upward tug of his lips, but his body no longer obeys him, preferring to react to her without his consent. It no longer belongs to him, his reactions under Casey's ownership now.

She and Sam approach the bar together.

Derek gestures to her leg. He'd told himself this time he'd start with asking her order, but the slight limp has him worried— _ curious _ . "What happened?"

"I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose, or you have a memory problem you ought to see a physiker for." Casey makes a tsking sound, gingerly lowering herself onto a stool.

"I think this time I might be forgiven. You're obviously hurt."

She glances around, going as far as to lean over the counter searching. "Where do you keep it?"

"What?"

"Your license?"

" _ What? _ "

Wincing, she drops back onto the stool. "Because I'm injured, you seem to think that it gives you license to butt into my personal business, so I'm just wondering where you keep it. Is it with your business parchments or somewhere else?"

Sam tries to cover his laugh with a cough, but it fails. Though he appreciates the effort, Derek feels he does a better job covering up his disappointment at Casey's insistence that she keeps their conversations strictly business-related.

He wants to know everything about her.

"Hilarious. I just want to make sure you aren't going to start bleeding everywhere and frighten away my customers."

There's a twinkle in her eye at his attitude. "Were you  _ worried _ about me?"

"No."

"That's so sweet," she gushes, plopping her forearms onto the counter and leaning forward.

Feeling a flush creep up the back of his neck, Derek ignores her and turns to Sam. "What can I get for you?"

Sam orders for himself and the rest of his table with a wide grin, carrying their mugs with no help from the feisty elf, still giving Derek a cheeky grin.

When she doesn't move, he finally gives his attention back to Casey. "Aren't you usually the one delivering drinks to your friends?"

"Well, as you so kindly pointed out, I'm injured."

"Oh," Derek snorts, " _ now _ you want to talk about it."

Casey laughs, and he finds he loves the sound. "I just really think you should wait before interrogating your customers. Anyway, I thought I'd sit and eat here today."

He eyes her for a beat. "Don't you want to eat with your friends?"

"I've just spent the last month with them for my only company. I'd rather have someone else to talk to."

It delights him. Maybe Casey chooses him because her options are currently limited and because she wants a break from her current companions, but she still chooses him.

"Unless you're too busy?"

Derek gives a quick shake of his head, biting down on his tongue to keep from blurting out something that might sound like him begging her to stay. "Nah," he says around the throbbing pain. "I'm not too busy."

"Alright." She places her order—it hasn't changed from her visit, and Derek files this information away.

Later, as Derek is setting her stew down in front of her, she says, "I got bit."

"Oh?" Derek's a little fearful of prying further, even though he wants to know more. Sometimes he thinks she's messing with him, but he doesn't want to risk Casey shutting the conversation down.

She nods. "Yeah. Giant lizard came out of nowhere." She mimes the action, swinging her spoon suddenly toward him before scooping some of the stew into her mouth. "A few weeks ago. It's mostly healed now."

"That's good."

"I only mention it because you were worried."

He shakes his head. "I think you'd like it if I was worried.  _ You _ enjoy my company."

"Please." She tosses her hair with a snort. "I just wanted quick access to food and drink without having to get up."

"Mhm." Derek feels like he might vibrate right out of his skin. This conversation has his body humming with electricity. "I'm willing to bet your friends would have carried it over to you."

Her answering reply is quick. Derek likes that about her, likes that Casey challenges his mind. "They all have their own injuries to deal with." She's smiling, seeming as entertained by their exchange as he is. He hopes he isn't imagining it. Her expression is expectant like she wants this as much as he does. As if she's been keeping score the same way Derek has.

"Sam seemed alright when he was over here."

"You think that I should sit around and let my friends wait on me?"

Derek shrugs, his usual smirk making its way onto his face. "I think that you should admit you like talking to me."

A beat passes as Casey mulls this over, spooning more stew into her mouth.

Patient, Derek waits for her answer. He thinks he might be willing to wait forever for her. The thought should maybe scare him, but it doesn't. It just  _ is _ .

"My parents split up," she says, eventually.

He blinks, pausing in the cleaning of his mugs. It's not that he doesn't appreciate Casey sharing the information—in fact, it gives him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, like drinking warm cider on a cold day—but the abrupt twist in the conversational road throws him.

"Since then, my mom has started working for a tailor. It doesn't pay much, but she's good at it. Lizzie, my sister, can't do much work yet, but she was working to help clean houses and such when she could have been focusing on her lessons. I needed a job that could help the family so Lizzie wouldn't have to work at her age." She tilts her neck to the side, stretching. "I've known Sam for as long as I can remember, and he'd gone out with this group. Few months after my dad left, he stopped by for a visit."

Casey pauses for another bite of her stew. Derek, no longer even trying to clean, waits patiently and enthralled.

"I've always been good with a bow and arrow and with animals. Their group needed someone, I needed a job, so I joined. I found out that I loved it, and now I get to send money to my family."

"That's how you got into adventuring."

Casey nods. "That's how I got into adventuring."

It pleases Derek beyond measure that she shares this with him, that in her eyes, she's earned the right to the answer.

Behind Casey, her friends are moving. Sam wanders over, seeming almost apologetic about interrupting. "Case?"

She hums, glancing over at the halfling. "Ready?"

"Yeah. We've got to hit the road."

Nodding, Casey drains the last of her drink. Be there in a mo'."

Smiling, Sam nods back. He gives Derek a wave before meandering back to their friends. Again, Derek wonders what the nature of their relationship is beyond the fact that they've known each other forever.

It takes Casey a moment to get off the stool, her movements stiff compared to earlier. "Thanks for your company." The smile she tacks on to the sentence does bizarre things to Derek, including giving him goosebumps. "It was fun."

A thrill goes through him, fills him with energy. Derek wants to bounce on the balls of his feet with excitement, an urge he stomps down. "You  _ do _ like talking to me."

"Maybe," she admits without hesitation, grinning. Casey turns to go with a wave. "See you around, Derek."

He wants to beg her to stay. Now that they were making progress seeing her leave feels harder somehow. What if something happens and she's not able to make it back? He doesn't want these conversations to end. The thought sobers him. The urge to move leaves him. Instead of begging, Derek asks, "When?"

The question halts her movements, even though her group stands waiting for her at the door. Casey shrugs. "I'm not sure. We head out this way sometimes, but I never know when that will be."

He nods, passing a cloth idly over the already clean counter. "Okay. See you… sometime." His tone is insistent, wishing he could tell her to be careful.

Casey smiles. "See you. Maybe in a month or so."

Imagine Derek's surprise, then, when he sees her again two days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/isinkwiththeship) and ask me about joining the Dasey discord. :>


	4. Chapter 4

Previously, when Casey and her crew would leave, Derek would frequently think about Casey and hope that she was alright. When she goes this last time, he spends more time the next two days thinking about and worrying over her safety.

Rationally, Derek knows that Casey is strong and clever, not to mention she's obviously survived this long. But if she stops showing up, he realizes that he will miss her—a lot. Derek cares about what happens to her, which changes his thought process from hoping that she's safe to worrying that she might not be.

Then, two days after she left, not to be seen again for months, the door to the inn bursts open, and the half-orc shoulders his way through the frame. Caught by surprise at seeing one of Casey's group members, Derek takes a second to realize that the bundle _is_ Casey.

The half-orc catches Derek's eye. "Where's your nearest physiker?"

Derek's not entirely sure how it happened. One second he's behind the bar; the next, he's made his way halfway across the room to her. He catches sight of Sam stepping in after the bulky adventurer. "Center of town." The Crane Inn is located on the outskirts of a medium-sized town. It's a good spot; he's able to catch a lot of business from people passing by looking for a meal or a place to sleep. Now, however, he wishes he is closer to someone who could take good care of her. "Where are you going?"

"To find the physiker."

Derek reaches out, grabbing at the other's leather armor. "No," he insists, "I'll send a messenger." If something is seriously wrong with Casey, she shouldn't be moved or jostled so much. "It will be faster," he promises when the half-orc frowns at him. "Edwin knows exactly where to go, and we— _you_ can get her more comfortable."

He doesn't wait for anyone to agree. Instead, he gestures for them to follow and heads toward the rooms, pausing for a key. He gestures at Sam. "You can find Edwin in the stables. Tell him I said to go get Paul." Sam nods, scurrying off. Derek leads the half-orc—who introduces himself as Ralph—toward the rooms. "Where's the rest of your group?"

"Behind us." Ralph takes care in stepping into the room and lowering Casey onto the bed. "Me and Sam rode ahead to try and get her to help faster."

"What happened?"

"We ran into a mind flayer. Ever seen one?"

Derek shakes his head. He's heard a few stories—working in his industry, you tend to—but they're always exaggerated by the heroes who survived the encounter. Casey looks in rough shape. Now that she is lying on the bed, the blanket wrapped around her is falling to the side. The bandages wrapped around her middle has blood seeping through. He has a feeling this story and the stories he heard will not be the same. Behind her closed lids, her eyes move frequently.

"They're terrible. Stand about the height of your average elf, and they have all these tentacles." Ralph shudders. Derek is right there with him; it sounds like something from somebody's nightmares. "Anyway, she was stunned by one. Then, it tried to take out her brain." Ralph says this casually like it's a common occurrence to have something attempt to devour your organs. "It didn't work, obviously, but Boss was pretty beat up after that. The thing stabbed her, and then it does some kind of damage to your mind, too."

"Psychic damage," Sam says from the doorway.

Derek spares the halfling a glance, but his gaze automatically travels back to Casey.

"Why don't you get something to eat," Sam suggests to Ralph, entering the room. Nodding, Ralph exits, leaving him alone with Sam. "Sorry to barge into your inn like that."

"Don't be sorry." Derek doesn't necessarily want to see Casey like this, but if something happened and she didn't survive, suffice to say that he's glad he came here, that he could be here to help. "Is she going to be okay?"

Adjusting the blanket around Casey, Sam shrugs. It's then, watching Sam fuss over Casey, that Derek realizes he might be the one intruding. He recognizes the bustling around for what it is, though. Sam's afraid, needs to do something to feel useful, even if it's just pulling the blanket over her. Derek feels the same way.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "Don't your groups usually have someone who can help with this sort of thing? Shouldn't you be traveling with a cleric or some other kind of healer? A wizard? Hell, even a sorcerer?" While healing someone with magic from a demon was not the ideal situation in Derek's book, it had to be better than Casey dying. "I've heard rumors," he continues, eyeing the instrument strapped to Sam's travel bag, "that even bards can sometimes do that kind of magic."

"I've already done what I can." Sam sounds mildly pained. "As has everyone in our group. A mind flayer isn't something you mess around with, and Casey wasn't the only one injured. We did what we could to stabilize her and make sure everyone in our group would survive. It will be a while before any of us has the kind of energy necessary to perform that kind of magic again."

Derek paces. It's not Sam's fault, but he feels frustrated at the bard, nonetheless. He finds himself feeling angry at Casey, too. How did she let herself get caught up with a _mind flayer_? A beat passes, and he sighs. "I'll go wait for the physiker." This is not his place to wait. He's done his job, giving them a room. Standing here, interrogating Sam about Casey's well being is not his place. He's nothing but the Casey-obsessed elf who serves them drinks. "Tell him which room to go to."

"I'll go." Sam straightens, adjusts his armor. "You can stay."

Derek blinks, gaze shooting to Sam. "What? I don't—" he cuts off at the look Sam gives him as he edges toward the door.

"Of course," he shrugs, "you do have an inn to run, so I'd understand if you can't." But Sam doesn't question whether Derek wants to.

Has he been that obvious?

Probably because the words tumble from his lips, immediately and of their own accord, "I've got employees."

So, that's how he finds himself seated beside Casey's bedside, waiting for Paul. He _should_ be out on the floor, managing his business but can't bring himself to leave the room. Instead, he sits in the chair, leg jiggling impatiently.

"Could you be any more obnoxious?" Casey asks, her voice cracking. "Have you ever sat still a second in your life?"

His leg stops moving instantly, finding relief in hearing her speak. It's a testament to how weirdly obsessed Derek is with her, that despite the circumstances, his mind can recognize that this is the first time she's addressed him first. Not that it matters, _especially_ given the situation, but his brain latches onto this knowledge anyway, without his permission. He wants to take her snark as a sign that she's going to be okay. He opens his mouth to retort, but a knock at the door beats him.

He glances at Casey and stands to get the door. Paul pokes his head in, bag in hand. "I hear there's a patient for me in here."

Derek nods, moving out of the way. "I'll go get Sam or Ralph; they were there for the actual incident."

The irritation in Casey's voice is clear, and he glances over to see her trying to shift to a sitting position. "So was I," she says in her too-weak voice. Her attempt to sit up fails, and she drops back with a groan, but her eyes light up with recognition when they land on the physiker. "Paul? What are you doing here?"

"Casey." He tsks, shaking his head as he moves Derek's chair closer to her bedside. "Here to take care of your injuries. What have you done this time?"

She tries to laugh, but it quickly turns into a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, you know, the usual."

"That depends," she hisses out through her teeth. She catches sight of Derek, offers him a small smile. "I'm at the inn?"

"You couldn't stay away, obviously. You know, Casey, there are easier ways to see me."

Her laughter brings out another pained cry, and Derek feels guilty for it, even as she smiles at him.

"I'm going to get Sam." He makes a quick exit. Derek is glad that she's awake, pleased that she's talking to him, but has now discovered that he doesn't like to see her in pain.

* * *

While he waits, Derek starts to clean the bar. He'd just finished cleaning when Ralph had appeared earlier, so there isn't much to do, but he has to keep moving, needs something to do with his hands, and all his nervous energy.

His idle cleaning gives him some time to try and piece together why he's so worried about Casey. Part of the answer is easy—obvious, even; it just doesn't make sense. Derek hardly knows her. Over the last few months, they have interacted three times—four, if he's going to count today—but he _likes_ her. She's probably—no, definitely—his favorite customer, and Derek sees many regulars.

Sam comes back out about fifteen minutes later. He heads straight for the bar, climbing onto a stool. "He thinks she's going to be alright."

"Great." He tries to keep his tone neutral. It shouldn't matter if this too kind halfling realizes his feelings for Casey, but he doesn't want it getting back to her, not when he'll have to say goodbye again. All his careful neutrality, though, is wasted because once more, his body betrays him, shoulders sagging in relief.

"He said that she might not be able to go out for a while. The physical stuff will take some time to heal, of course, but the mind fuck?" Sam heaves a sigh, practically melting onto the bar top. "That will take some time to overcome fully."

"But she's going to be okay?"

Sam nods. "Yup."

Nodding as well, Derek places a mug of ale in front of him. "How does she know Paul?"

Smiling a little, Sam takes the mug with a word of thanks and shakes his head. "I think that's a question you should ask her."

"She'll find a reason not to tell me."

"Maybe," Sam shrugs, "but if that's the case, then I definitely shouldn't be the one to tell you. I value my life, and while she may be on the mend right now, she will heal at some point, and I'd like to continue living my life when that day comes." Derek tries to swipe the mug away, but Sam is too quick, laughing as he clutches his drink to his chest. "I am not getting in the middle of whatever game you two are playing."

"We're not playing a game."

"Aren't you, though?"

Derek doesn't have an answer to this. "I'm not sure what I'm doing when it comes to Casey," he admits.

For some reason, Sam finds that immensely funny, nearly falling off his stool as he chuckles.

Derek throws a rag at him, giving up his pretense of needing to clean. At least talking to someone—and knowing that she's going to be okay—eases some of his anxiety.

* * *

An hour passes before Paul emerges onto the tavern floor. He goes to the bar, flagging Derek down. "Did you want to see her?"

"What makes you say that?"

The physiker's appraising stare makes Derek feel seen like Paul can read every thought Derek has as they come. "You looked pretty miserable in there."

"I don't like blood."

"Okay. Well, if you see Sam or any of her friends, tell them she can have visitors, but not too many at once and not for too long. She should get some rest."

"Sure." Derek nods, feigning disinterest. "I'll pass along the message."

Paul isn't even out the door before Derek hastily exits the bar and heads down the hall to the rooms. It isn't until he nears her door that he slows down, giving the wood a light tap in case she'd fallen asleep.

"Come in."

Casey is propped up with pillows when he enters the room. She's covered, and her clothes have already been changed. There's a book in her lap, but she closes it as he enters, setting it aside. She brightens upon seeing him. "You were worried about me."

"What makes you say that?" Derek sits in the chair Paul had vacated, still facing Casey's bed. He props his feet up on the edge of the mattress, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the way she raises her brows at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty, but I've had worse."

That stops Derek in his tracks. He drops the cool persona, reeling back and blinking at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, but I'll be alright."

He nods, feeling awkward, like maybe he shouldn't be here, but Casey doesn't ask him to leave. The silence hangs heavy until he finally asks, "How do you know Paul?"

Laughing a little, Derek waits for her to rebuff the question or to deflect. She adjusts the blankets around her legs. "He's been my physiker long as I can remember. I grew up on the other side of town."

This news delights him, and Derek has to tighten his crossed arms to ensure that his body listens to him. He's overcome with the desire to reach out and lace their fingers together and just hold her hand. "You live here? Your family is still there?" It makes sense now, her comment about trying to come back through here as often as possible. At first, he had hoped that it might have something to do with him, but she'd referred to her entire party. It makes sense, too, why they stop for food and drink at the tavern but never request a room.

More importantly, Derek thinks they're making progress seeing as she'd given him this information with no hesitation.

But then she smirks. Her tone is light and teasing, "You care about me."

"What?"

Casey nods. She starts to lean toward him but is halted by the pain and bandages. Her grimace transforms into a pout as she falls back against her pillows. When she's comfortable again, she continues. "Max is the closest physiker to here, but he's not as good as Paul.

"So?" His palms start to itch.

"So," her grin widens, "Ralph asked where the _nearest_ physiker was, not the _best_ , and you sent for Paul."

Now he understands why she'd freely given information away; she'd already learned something about him. Derek squints at her. "I thought you were unconscious that whole time."

"In and out," she admits, dismissing that with a wave of her hand. "But in my line of work, you learn to pay attention during your lucid moments."

"It doesn't mean anything." Derek sniffs. "He said closest, but I figured your friends would want someone actually good at their job. Could you imagine the rumors if people found out someone died in my inn?"

"Uh-huh. Why are you so afraid to admit you were worried about me?"

The question catches him off guard, but Derek still manages to respond without missing a beat. "Probably the same reason you're afraid to tell me anything about yourself."

Her smile softens. "Touché."


	5. Chapter 5

Following her injury, Casey stays at the inn for two days. Her sister allegedly comes by to visit the first night but during the supper rush. Derek misses meeting her. The rest of her party visits as well.

Then, there is Nora. She’s cheerful, clearly compassionate, looks a bite like Casey, and Derek is terrified of her.

“So,” she says, when they meet, “ _ you’re _ Derek.”

Unsure of what to do with this information, his mind goes a bit blank. Has Casey been talking about him? He’s so busy processing what that could mean that their encounter is not his finest hour.

Paul also stops by both days to check on Casey. She’s not thrilled about his instructions for her to take a small break from adventuring. There’s a lot of fuss around it.

“You’ve gotta listen to him,” Derek overhears Sam telling her.

Ralph tries a similar approach. “Paul knows what he’s doing, Boss.”

It only servers to irritate her further. Casey is in a  _ mood _ when Derek stops in her room to visit on the second night. He’s barely stepped over the threshold, and she’s already glaring at him.

Ignoring the death stare, Derek drops onto the chair and bites into an apple. “I think you should go back to adventuring.”

The glare turns to suspicion, eyes narrowing at him. “Do you now?”

“Yup.” He takes another bite of the apple, ignoring the look as she waits for him to elaborate. He makes her wait, taking his time to chew his bite of apple. “Your sour mood is really bringing down the atmosphere of the place—” she snorts “—it’s really affecting my business.”

“I’m preventing you from conducting business?”

“Mhm. People walk in and can just  _ feel _ your attitude. Plus, if something happened to you while you were off gallivanting about, I’m sure a bunch of people would get a kick out saying, ‘I told you so.’”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And, obviously, you want to send your very kind mother into an early grave from excessive worry about her eldest daughter.”

“Alright.” Casey tosses her hands up. “I’ll take some time off, jeez.”

Pulling an apple from his apron pocket, Derek smiles and extends it to her. “You should do whatever makes you happy.” Even if everyone would prefer that she keep herself in one piece, ultimately, it would be her choice. “But there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself heal a bit.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’re a child.”

She grins. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with you.”

“Whatever herbs Paul has you on has clearly addled your brain if that’s the best response you can come up with.”

Pointing to the door, Casey’s smile widens. “Get out.”

* * *

The next morning, Casey checks out. He sees her talking to Emily, and he makes his way over. “How much do I owe you?”

“Well, for two days—”

“I’ve got this one,” he tells Emily, stepping up to the counter. She shrugs and moves away. “It’s already taken care of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your room has been paid for.”

Casey narrows her eyes at Derek. “By who?”

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to write off her room. Casey is a hard worker, she sends most of her money to her family, she’d been injured, and—

And Derek is making excuses because he wants to do something nice for her for no reason (aside from the obvious). He shrugs.

“Mhm.” Taking a second to dig in the leather pouch hanging from her belt, Casey throws a couple coins on the counter. It’s too much. When Derek slides them back to her side, her shoulders square. Planting her feet to stare him down elicits a wince, but she remains standing tall. “What? Not enough?”

More coins are added to the pile. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s—”

Casey drops more coins on the counter. “Your rates are insane.”

“Your room is  _ paid for _ ,” he insists.

She gestures to the pile of  _ too fucking much _ money on the counter. “I should hope so.”

“No—” Derek heaves a sigh. “Why can’t someone do something nice for you? Why do you have to make it so difficult?”

Her face darkens. The coins disappear into Casey’s leather pouch with one forceful sweep of her arm. “I’m making sure that I’m not taking advantage. I just—” She bites her lip.

Five seconds pass as they stare at one another before Derek reaches across the counter, covering her hand with his. Her hands are rough, worn from a life of adventuring. How many years has she been doing this? There is so much about Casey that he wants to know, wishes she wanted to tell him.

Casey exhales slow, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry. I have been told that I’m stubborn.”

“Can’t imagine anyone saying such a thing about you,” he deadpans.

“Shut up.”

She cracks a smile, and Derek gives her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “I just figured that you have stuff going on, and this was an unplanned stay. I wanted to help.”

“Okay.” Derek’s brows shoot up, and Casey ducks her head. “I mean,” a full exhale, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Two days later, Derek goes to visit her. He considers waiting a few more days, but knowing that she was in town, that he could possibly spend time with her before she goes out again; it seemed worth the risk. He’s already shown his cards anyway.

There are three tailors in town. All Derek does is ask around, and he finds the one Nora works for. Her face is expressionless when she recognizes that it’s him standing in the shop. Inexplicably, Derek is nervous.

“She’s not here.” Nora doesn’t look up from her work, violently cutting through a strip of fabric.

“Oh, I didn’t think she’d be—I assume she’s resting.”

Nora looks him over, takes in his fitted clothes and empty hands. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Derek considers leaving without pushing this any further. Casey doesn’t owe him anything; he could be embarrassing himself by reaching out to her. On the other hand, he thinks of ‘ _ touché _ .’ “I was hoping you might consider telling me where I  _ can _ find Casey.” He pauses. “And if you think she’ll want to see me.”

A smile cracks the façade of stoicism. “Maybe you  _ aren’t _ entirely awful.”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“I worried about you, but here you are giving her agency.” Unimpressed, Nora brandishes her scissors at him. “I’ve heard stories about you, the innkeeper who gets around. I’ve nothing against a single person meeting their needs. My concern, however, lies in the trail of broken hearts that could replace every street in this town.”

That seems a bit harsh, but Derek figures it’s warranted. “Is this the part where you threaten me if I hurt your daughter?”

“No, no.” Smiling, Nora shakes her head. “This is the part where I  _ warn _ you. Sometimes people wind up with broken hearts; that’s the nature of relationships of all kinds, but Casey is good at her job. If you lie to her, it won’t go over well with Casey. She can take care of her own problems. If you take advantage of her, if you become her problem, she’s the one you will have to answer to.”

He believes it, too, and that’s more terrifying than having to face Nora—though, she’s also not someone Derek wants to run into if things go tits up. “Understood.”

When he doesn’t move, Nora returns to her project, measuring out her fabric. “She might have trouble admitting it, but I think she’d be happy to see you.”

It means everything, assuming Nora knows her daughter as well as she seems to.

“Why is that?” When Nora looks confused, he continues, “why does she have trouble admitting things?”

Nora sighs. Drops the measuring tape in her lap and takes a few seconds to consider the question. “It’s a complicated answer.”

Frowning, Derek nods. Of course, he wants more, but he can respect Nora’s loyalty and the complexity of the issue. He thinks back to her disappointment at being told to take a break from adventuring, at the way she had a hard time accepting the free room. “Seems like she has trouble appearing weak or like she needs help.” Not that he, or anyone in their right mind, would classify Casey as weak.

“That sounds accurate.” Nora fiddles with the measuring tape, studies him with a similar accuracy; it feels like she is measuring him. “You  _ should _ visit her. Having some company might do her some good.”

Nora gives him the address and shoos him from the shop when he tries to give his profuse thanks. Casey’s capable of making her own decisions would stubbornly stand by a decision. Still, he thinks it matters that he has Nora’s approval. That’s how he’s taking the whole encounter, anyway. Despite Nora’s thoughts on the matter, though, it occurs to Derek that Casey may  _ not _ be thrilled to see him.

This worry becomes even more pronounced when she has an arrow pointed at his chest.

Despite her being confined to a bed for two days and knowing she’s injured, Derek still expects to see her clad in leather armor. Instead, Casey’s outside clad in simple linens, a quiver of arrows on her back, an arrow nocked in her bow and aimed at a painted target.

He waits until she lets the arrow fly, watching as it landed off-center with a thud. She grunts. At first, Derek assumes she’s frustrated at missing, but when her hand goes to her side, he thinks the pain might be a part of it. Casey reaches for another arrow.

“Hey.”

That’s how he finds an arrow pointed at his chest as Casey whips around. Even as she recognizes him, she doesn’t lower the weapon. “Are you stalking me?”

“No?” It’s not intentionally a question, but he’s not sure he has much of a leg to stand on, seeing as he did track her mom down to find out where she went.

“Convincing.”

“I asked your mom if it was okay, first.”

Thankfully, the arrow is lowered. Casey grins a little. “I planned on coming by.”

The admission feels like flying—or, rather, like what Derek imagines flying is like. “How come you didn’t?”

Tucking the arrow away, Casey shrugs. “Want to come inside?”

* * *

He goes inside. The house is warm, welcoming. It’s a bit cluttered, too, but he thinks it’s nice. They sit by the hearth, talking until Nora gets home. He learns how painful her father leaving was, learns she likes the color purple, learns all kinds of things about her. It’s no longer a give and take, no longer a competition. Derek no longer feels like he must earn the information. They simply… talk. He shares things, too. Talks about how hard he worked to open the inn, how he likes meeting different people, and that’s where the idea came from.

It’s nice.

Nora shows up and invites him to stay for dinner. He gets to meet Lizzie—thinks that she and Edwin might make good friends.

The sun is dipping below the horizon when he finally leaves.

“Thanks.” Casey leans on a porch post for support, arms crossed.

“For what?”

“Not insisting that I sit and do nothing all day.”

He smiles. “I don’t think you’d listen even if I had insisted. Besides, I think you know your body’s limits better than anyone else.”

“I’m not overdoing it,” she promises. Casey seems eager to assure him. “And I appreciate you not hovering.”

“Your aim might be a little off,” he laughs at the glare she shoots him, “but I’m pretty sure you could hit me either way.”

“Probably,” she agrees.

They stand in silence. Having spent most of the day there, Derek knows he should leave.

He doesn’t move.

“Thanks for coming, too.”

“Mhm. Although with the greeting you gave me, I’m not sure you’re in any position to judge the way I run my inn.”

When she laughs, Casey’s head tilts up toward the sky. It’s a full belly laugh; loud, a little awkward, wholly amused. He loves it. “You caught me by surprise. Anyway, your livelihood depends on how you treat customers. Very different.”

“You can come anytime, you know if you want. Even if you aren’t passing by with your friends.” He looks past her to the door. “Would get you out of the house, at least.”

“I’ll think about it.” She smiles at him, and it sounds like a promise.


	6. Chapter 6

They visit one another nearly every day over the next five weeks. Some days, Casey comes to the inn. Others, he goes to see her in her home. She practices every day with her bow and arrow. Though Nora clearly worries she's overworking herself, Casey seems to be improving.

The primary concern, however, has to do with her mind. Whatever the mind flayer did to her, it still affects her mind. Paul says that it could take longer than her physical injury to heal, but it's not something he's familiar with. He can't—won't—add time to her recovery period for it. Instead, Paul gives her six to eight weeks before he says she can even think about traveling again—long enough for the physical injury to heal. It isn't what she wants to hear, and Derek can tell that she's getting antsy, but at least she's healing. And her aim is improving.

Derek loves to watch her practice. Even with the injury, he can tell she's quite good. The wound in her side hinders her speed, but she's quick to draw again. He marvels at what she must be like without pain slowing her down. As they march closer to the six-week mark—only one week remaining—he knows that Casey will be leaving soon.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that Casey prepares to leave before they even reach six weeks. One morning, he's opening the inn, and there she is, standing in the doorway, dressed in her leather armor, bag strapped to her bag along with all her equipment. Through the window, he can see her now-familiar horse packed and ready to go.

Casey won't meet his eyes, even as she waits for his attention.

"It hasn't been six weeks." Their time together has always been limited; he knows that. And, as much as he wishes she would want to stay, Derek will never ask that of her. Knowing that doesn't make saying goodbye any easier, and he thought they would have more time.

"No, it hasn't." She shifts her feet, still avoiding his gaze.

He nods, fights to keep the frown from his face. There's no reason for him to make this any harder on Casey, either. Derek has no interest in this conversation giving her any added guilt. She was always meant to get back to work, adventuring. "Okay."

Her head shoots up, and Casey blinks at him. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"There's nothing else you want to say?" She squints at him, suspicious.

There's honestly so much that Derek _wants_ to say, but nothing he feels comfortable saying, not yet. It's too much, too soon, and it won't serve any of them any good here. "Of course, there is." Derek can admit to that much. Striding out from behind the bar, he's tempted to spill everything. It's a feeling he's grown more and more familiar with over the last few weeks, the urge to lay his secrets bare before her. Maybe it's for the best that she's leaving, so he can go a few days without feeling like the next time he opens his mouth, he's going to hurl a confession at her. Derek gestures her over with a small smile, and they meet in the middle. "You're sure you're ready?"

Casey nods.

"Okay. Like I said before, I'm sure you know your mind and body best. Please, be careful, though? Listen to yourself if you feel like it's too much?"

Smiling wide, Casey nods again. "Yes, of course." A beat pass, then she lurches forward, throwing her arms around his shoulders. He barely has time to settle into the hug, arms curling around her waist before she pulls away. "Thank you."

He nods, wishes he could tell her how much he'll miss. It's bound to come out wrong if he does. "You're welcome. I'll see you the next time you pass through?"

It's clear to anyone who knows Casey that she needs to leave, that staying any longer would start to damage her in ways that the mind flayer could not compete with.

"Absolutely." Taking another step back, her smile softens. "I'll be fine. Safe. I'll see you again."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And then she's gone.

* * *

The first letter comes a week later. Emily usually receives the post when it arrives, but the last month and a half, Derek has been working with her to take over running the day-to-day operations of the inn. As such, Marti is the one who brings him the mail. He really ought to have someone else do the job as the kid is too nosy for her own good.

"Who is Casey?" She asks, flipping through the parchments, ignoring the fact that she's supposed to hand over the mail without snooping through it, first. At least Emily had the grace to snoop before she brought it to him and pretended she knew nothing about what was there.

"What?"

Edwin snatches the letter from their little sister's hand. "That adventurer elf that Derek was hanging around for weeks and weeks."

"Ah. The one that left." She makes a sad face in Derek's direction, and he glares. "Took off and left Derek in a _mood_."

"I am not in a mood," he protests.

Marti ignores him, peering over Edwin's shoulder. "That's the one that won't let you touch her horses?"

"That's the one."

Derek takes the letter from his brother's hands, pressing the parchment to his chest with one hand to shield it from their prying eyes and nudges Edwin away with the other. "Speaking of horses, shouldn't you be out in the stables?"

"It's time for my lunch," he whines.

Sighing, Derek gives him another nudge. "Go talk to Emily, then." When he turns back, he's faced with the youngest Venturi elf staring at him with wide eyes. It used to make her innocent, but he knows better now. That look is calculating. "You should get back to work, too," he tells her.

"I want to know what it says."

"Edwin says Casey sent you a letter." Emily leans on the counter, peering at the bit of parchment sticking out from underneath his hand. "What's it say?"

"He hasn't opened it yet."

"It's a letter for _me_." Derek huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. "All of you, back to work. I'll be back."

Once he's safely outside and behind the building, Derek takes a breath and tears away the wax seal.

_Derek,_

_First off, I hope that it is okay that I have written. When I saw you last, there was so much I wanted to say. I feel like a lot goes left unsaid between us, and I often find myself searching between the phrases for meaning that may not even be there. I suppose this is true in any conversation. Still, I am more curious about what is not being said with you than I am with anyone else._

_There are times when I do find meaning aside from what you are saying. Often, I wonder if what you're not saying is more important than the words that are being exchanged. Perhaps I linger on those thoughts too frequently, and maybe this letter has been too forward. I find it is much easier to speak to you, frankly and with honesty, when you are not standing in front of me when I do not have to see your reaction. It is easier to think without distraction, too, when you are not beside me. I missed having a clear head._

_I think I may miss you more._

_We have surpassed "perhaps this letter is forward" to this letter is forward. Maybe I should apologize, but I am not sure that it would be sincere. If I can survive all that I have seen in this life, I can survive admitting that I miss your company._

_Our party is currently in a village-bordering-on-city called Kingston, though, by the time you receive this letter, we will be gone. You seemed concerned, and I think we will be gone for several months. I wanted you to know that I am well—safe and uninjured. Our work typically keeps us very busy, but we took the first few days easy. Things will be picking up soon._

_I hope that everything is well with the inn. If you have any inclination to write me back, you can send a letter to Ottawa. That should give my letter enough time to reach you, and allow you time to write back should you decide to do so. If I don't receive a message from you, I shall understand and undertake not to feel it as a personal slight. I know that you are busy, and I know how much time and attention your inn requires. I do hope that I shall see a letter from you, though._

_Sam asks after your health and wellness, though, so should you feel like answering his inquiry, I would gladly pass along the message._

_Stay well._

_Casey_

Derek reads the letter three more times, snorting each time when he gets toward the end. As if he would not want to write her back. After the third time, he rushes back inside, heading straight for his office. He's not sure how much wiggle room Casey has given him, but he doesn't want to waste any time and have her pass through Ottaway before his letter can reach her.

Until Derek started training Emily, his office rarely saw any use. It used to be the center of organized chaos—things went into the office when it had nowhere else to go. Things were piled everywhere as Derek prefers to do as much work as he can on the floor to monitor what is happening. Now, he's given Emily permission to use the office. The place looks immaculate. This wouldn't be a problem, except Derek no longer knows where anything is. After a few minutes of searching, he still can't find the parchment, ink, or a quill.

"Emily!" He shouts.

She pokes her head through the door a moment later. "You bellowed?"

"I didn't bellow."

Passing behind her is Marti, arms laden with a tray of fresh candles for the room. "You bellowed."

"You didn't need to bellow," Emily adds. "I was right here."

"I didn't bell—can we please stop saying bellow? Where's the parchment? The quills?"

Emily grins. "Writing a letter, Der?"

"None of your business," he sniffs.

Blessedly, she shows him where everything is, and after a few more teasing comments, she leaves him be. Eager, Derek dips the quill, wipes away the excess ink, and hovers over the parchment.

… only for no words to come.

How is that he has so much to say, but when it comes time to write it, he can't seem to remember any of it? Slowing down, he takes out her letter, smooths it across the table, and rereads it. He slows down and takes his time going sentence by sentence. Derek pictures her standing in front of his desk. Her arms crossed defensively as she tells him that she won't be personally offended if she doesn't receive a letter.

Gods, how he misses her. He can see her so clearly; it makes him _ache_.

And then, he's able to write.

* * *

After that, the letters continue. Sometimes, when she can, Casey will give him the next place he can send a letter. Other times, she can't, but she still writes to him until finally, a letter arrives with where he can send the next correspondence. It isn't ideal, but at least he knows what's happening with her.

Mail, however, crawls at a snail's pace; traveling from village to village, city to city, and village to city takes time. Too much time, in Derek's opinion. The time between letters has him antsy, itching for word from Casey. For the first time, Derek finds himself wishing he'd learned a spell to send messages; there would be limits, of course, but it would go a lot faster than this.

This goes on for six months. Then, suddenly, it stops. Derek's last letter had been candid and vulnerable. He had taken a risk, and now with the sudden silence, he has two genuine fears. The first being that something happened to Casey, and that's why she isn't writing back. The second fear is that Derek misread the entire situation, and he misstepped. The latter would be preferable because it would at least mean she's safe. Still, it will suck if that's the case.

He alternates between these two fears every day. When Derek worries that she read his letter and decided to stop responding, he comforts himself with the knowledge that it's a part of life, and at least she's safe. When he's worried about something happening to her, Derek tries to remind himself that Casey is strong and capable.

Still, no one can be vigilant, and on top of their game every single day. Things happen. It's on one of these latter days that the door to the inn opens, and Casey strolls through.

Derek nearly weeps in relief. He abandons the table he's cleaning to meet her at the door. She's alone, and he wants to ask where the rest of her party is, but then she smiles at him. She takes his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his. "I'm only here for the night," she whispers.

Conversation about her party will have to wait.


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you have to leave in the morning?" Trailing one finger up from Casey's bare elbow to her shoulder, Derek drinks the other elf in. In the past hour or so, he's found that he loves to explore her body. He's used to smooth skin in bed. With Casey, his finger rises and dips around faded scars. As he explores, he looks for any fresh marks, worried about her always.

As the question leaves his lips, though, he hates himself a bit for asking. Casey doesn't seem to mind, though, smiling up at him through lidded eyes. "Yes."

"I thought you would say that."

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, smoothing out the furrowed brow. "Don't be. I know you have things to do, people depending on you, lives to save." It didn't stop his wanting, though, or the ache at the thought of her leaving again. Especially now that they had reached this point. "I shouldn't have asked."

"This is probably really unfair to you." Casey gestures at their naked bodies, intertwined at the legs. "Even more so when you take into account that I come and go without any real schedule, and my visits here are always so brief."

Derek thinks about telling her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he decides to wait. They'll address it in the morning. "I assume you got my letter."

Humming, Casey leans off the bed to dig through her discarded clothes and equipment. When she hauls herself back up, adjusting the blanket over her middle, she triumphantly waves a bit of parchment in his face. Clearing her throat--with more dramatics than strictly necessary--Casey reads," 'I have a deep adoration for your resilience and your spirit. Moreover, I adore you. I have scarcely stopped thinking of you since the date we met and I--'"

She laughs, stretching her arms to keep Derek from reaching the letter he's just lunged for. No need for him to hear his words read back to him. Still laughing, she shoves him away. 'You may be aware of my reputation, and though I maintain it is largely exaggerated, where there is truth in those stories, I no longer wish such a life.' Der _ek_ ," she swats his reaching hands away. Hearing his name like that sends a strange shiver down his spine, and perhaps it's time for round three. "This is _mine_ , and I'm reading. Stop, we're at my favorite part."

Pouting, Derek falls back on his bed. "I know what it says. I wrote it."

Ignoring him, she reads on. "' I no longer wish such a life. For you, I would be nothing but devoted. Even should you not feel the same, though I think you do, I am devoted and faithful to your memory." She drops the parchment on her lap, heaving a dramatic sigh. "You have such pretty words when you put ink to parchment."

"Thanks," he snorts, feeling a bit like she's poking fun.

"How come your mouth can't match it?"

She laughs when he pokes her in the side, shaking his head. "You find my words so pretty, and yet you did not write me back." It is a question he has, until this moment, refrained from asking. At first, they were much too busy, and then he was too afraid. However, it has sat in the back of his mind. His letter, Derek is confident, made clear his feelings for Casey. She, however, has yet to say anything back.

"Der _ek_!" Casey shifts to sit up, not even bothering to cover herself with the sheet. Her hair, usually pulled back in a neat braid, spills over her shoulder and brushes against him as she leans to look at him, biting back a smile. "Why do you think I'm _here_?"

"You remembered the part in all those rumors where I'm good in bed."

That earns him a shove to the shoulder. " _No_ ," she insists, studying him closely. "I didn't write back because I didn't have time; I was in such a hurry to get back here to _you_."

This confession results in her face buried in her hands, and Derek gently pries them away. "I'm glad you're here."

"We'll work on you learning to show proper gratitude."

"Proper grat—" Derek gapes at her, and it is his turn to gesture at their naked forms. "I'm sorry, but did I _not_ just show you how happy I am to see you? _Twice_!"

She fixes him with a coy smile, shrugging one shoulder. "I've had better."

" _You_ —" floundering, he tugs Casey flush against him, rolling over so he can hover over her. Insulted (and strangely aroused) beyond measure, Derek sets about to prove her wrong. "Better," he scoffs between kisses, exploring her body with his lips, taking his time to cover every. Single. Inch.

There's a good chance she's toying with him. Regardless, by the end of the night, he's going to have every curve and scar memorized. More importantly, Casey will not remember "better" when he's through.

Breathless laughter turns into quiet panting, her fingers fisting in his hair. "Der _ek_ ," she gasps when he lingers between her legs but doesn't stay. Casey tries pulling him back, tugging him by the roots of his hair.

He's moved onto her thigh at this point, laughing breathlessly against her skin. "So demanding. Who died and made you royalty? Be patient, princess."

The rest of the evening follows in a similar vein. Needless to say, neither of them sleep much.

In the morning, Derek wakes to find Casey sliding from the bed and, more importantly, his arms. "Shh." She smiles down at him, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. She bends to start gathering her clothes. "I didn't mean to wake you." Her tone is soft, gentle as if to lull him back to sleep.

There's something important, though, that Derek's forgetting. "You're leaving?" He manages, confused.

Casey leans over and kisses his forehead, then his lips. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

Derek wipes the sleep from his eyes. "Wait," he mutters. He knew she'd be leaving today; he hadn't expected it to be so early. What was so important? It catches up with him, and he scrambles to sit up with more urgency. "Wait!"

"I have to get going." But she doesn't move to leave or dress.

"No, I know." He manages to get to a sitting position, wiping a palm down his face as he examines his room. Maybe he should have raised the issue last night. "I'm coming with."

She blinks at him. "What? You can't—Derek, this isn't a decision you can make on a whim."

"It's not a whim. I just forgot to mention it last night."

She stands there naked and with wide eyes, watching him dress. " _Overnight_ is not enough time—"

"Casey." Derek stops, striding over to cup her face in his hands. It feels right, natural. He can read the worry in her eyes. "I decided this before you left the last time. I've been training Emily to run the inn."

"I—what?"

He grins. Loves seeing her speechless. "I'm coming with you."

"I can't ask you to give up your inn, your life." Even as she says it, her eyes have brightened, her smile taking over her face. She may not feel like she can _ask_ , but this is something Derek wants to give her.

"You're not asking, and I'm not giving anything up. It's still mine, only I won't be there for the day-to-day." He pulls his bag—already packed and ready—out of his trunk. Casey laughs when she sees it.

"But—"

"I could never ask you to give up this life. I have no problem living dangerously. I want this, _I want to be with you_ , as long as you're okay with me coming with."

Nodding, Casey starts to dress, pulling her clothes on in a hurry.

"Great." Derek nods, too. "And you swing this way periodically, so I can check in. Emily is prepared. It's all taken care of."

She beams at him. "You planned for this."

"I did. Granted," Derek attempts to fix her with a stern look, but he's too happy and smiling too much for it to have much of an effect, "I didn't expect you to be gone for so long."

"We traveled a bit further out than we had been the last few times." Hands perched on her (unfortunately) clothed hips, Casey studies him carefully. "And you're sure about this? Let me see what you have packed."

"Casey."

"Derek."

"I'm not going into this blind, I promise. When I mentioned it to Sam and Ralph—"

"What? When?"

"— _they_ ," Derek continues, ignoring her, "thought I would make a great addition to the team. Said they could use someone with better negotiating skills who knows how to lie."

Pouting, she crosses her arms. "I know how to lie." A beat. "And negotiate!"

"Sure, yeah, I know. But I'm better at it."

She snorts, resuming the hunt for her belongings. "Is that something you really want to be bragging about right now?"

"Yes. It's a skill for the job I'm applying for, separate from our relationship. Why are you making this so difficult?" It's clear the idea of him going is something she wants, something that makes her happy. Why argue with him?

She pauses, fingering the straps of her backpack. "I don't know. I guess… I guess I'm worried you'll go and grow sick of it too quickly, then you'll regret coming with."

"Are you afraid I'll get sick of adventuring, or I'll grow tired of you?"

Her head snaps toward him. At first, he thinks it's anger, and he misread the situation, but then he registers the surprise on her face. "Both?"

"You're a terrible liar." Derek can't help but laugh. He sobers immediately, though. "I'm not going to get sick of you. I've spent the last, I don't know how many months, wishing that I could be spending more time with you. If I'm honest, I've been playing with this idea for a lot longer than your last visit."

The packing begins again. Casey is avoiding his gaze, taking care to keep her eyes focused on her things.

"You're so brave and fearless when it comes to your work, and the dangers there are far worse. I will not hurt you, _but_ if you tell me that you don't want me there, then I'll stay. I won't go."

Lying or not, if Casey tells him she doesn't want him to go with her, he will listen. Derek waits with bated breath as she pauses, studying the ceiling.

"I suppose… well, I did say it was unfair to you that I would be leaving."

He hums, feeling like he's standing on the edge of a cliff, and Casey's words are the only thing that will prevent him from falling. His chest feels tight. "You did."

"Okay," she says.

"Okay?"

She whirls on him. "But this is a trial run. If you're not good at it, if no amount of training will turn you into an adventurer, then I'm bringing you home, and we'll figure something else out. It's one thing to risk your neck with competence; it's another if you can't handle it."

That seemed fair. Not everyone is cut out for adventuring, and if it turns out, Derek _isn't_ good at it, then he can't really fault her for getting rid of something that endangers her and her team. He doesn't want any of them getting hurt because of him. "I'll be fine." He says it with more confidence than he feels. There's some worry there, but it will be fine! "The whole team gets to weigh in on my competence, though, not just you."

After a moment's consideration, Casey extends her hand to him. "Deal."

They shake.

* * *

"And that," Derek grins at the bored-looking barkeep, "is how I got into adventuring."

It's six months from the night he left his inn. They've stopped for the night on their way to rescue the mayor's daughter from goblins. It's the first time he'll get to sleep in a bed in two weeks, and Derek's looking forward to it.

He also likes sharing his adventure story, despite Casey's protests. It feels good to be the one telling it for once. "It's a cute story," he tells her, even as he allows her to tug him away from the bar. "After all the stories I've had to endure—"

"What about all the stories they've had to sit through."

Shrugging, he throws his arms around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "They need my story even more."

They have come a long way since Derek left the Crane Inn with Casey. In a dangerous profession like hers— _theirs_ —it makes sense that she takes her role as party leader seriously. Derek hadn't been prepared for the level of ferocity she had when making plans. In the safety of the inn, Casey had seemed carefree. On the road, Casey is—not necessarily a different person, but intense. The woman who practiced with a bow and arrow daily despite an injury was calm in comparison.

Sam, who was ordinarily upbeat and cheerful no matter the circumstances, seemed more severe on the road. The group dynamics had to be altered, and that took some getting used to. Though, he understood why they were that way.

There was an… adjustment period, but Derek managed to survive his month-long trial period.

Barely.

The first week, he'd found there was a bit of a learning curve. That was something he had expected. He was used to being in charge at the inn, and he forgot that out here he wasn't. Derek learned very quickly to trust Casey's orders—most of the time--, but he doesn't like talking about that incident.

Neither does Ralph, as his eyebrows still haven't grown back.

_Now_ , however, things are better. Easier. Derek's found a rhythm with the group. Not for one second has he regretted his decision to come along.

Casey kisses his jaw. "Ready for bed?"

It's still early, but Derek and Casey have found a rhythm, too.

"Yeah." He scoops her into arms, loving the way she laughs, breaking his name in two as he whisks her off to their room for the night.


End file.
